


Skullcrusher Mountain

by Swing Set in December (swing_set13)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Spies, allusions of doomsday plots, burnt spies, saucy make outs, super villain lairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swing_set13/pseuds/Swing%20Set%20in%20December
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Stiles tries to take down a burnt spy using any means necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skullcrusher Mountain

Stiles wakes up on a cool metal table. His mouth feels dry in an unnatural way. Probably a tranquilizer then. At least it wasn't a taser. He rotates his shoulders but feels resistance. Looking to his left he sees a smooth band of metal bracketing his hand to the table. There isn't any give in the restraints. He only manages to lift his body an inch from the table before he feels the bite of the metal in his skin. The room is empty, awash in white walls with the far wall having a double sided glass observation window.

"Well, I didn't call this one," he says. "I'm going to die."

The dim overhanging florescent lights brighten as the far door opens with a slam.

"You have fucked up my plans for the last time McCall," growls a gruff voice that has Stiles turning to face his executioner. None other than Derek Hale, burnt spy and most wanted on every agencies list, stands before him. If Stiles ever survives this, he's going to lodge a complaint to the records department, because Hale's picture does not do him justice. Being on the run from every covert op organization has done Hale well. He's got muscles that no amount of mandatory gym time has ever given Stiles.

Stiles blinks owlishly at Derek when he realizes Hale's glaring at him extra hard. He guesses he should say something. "I'm not McCall."

"What?" Hale looks even more irritated. Stiles is used to that. No one really is expecting him.

"Yeah, Agent Stilinski. My ID should be in my pocket," he frowns, arching his hips, and bites his bottom lip. His tact vest and belt are missing. "Scott had a date."

"What?" And Derek looks like he's going to punch a hole in the white wall. Stiles squints at him, he vaguely remembered that Hale was cited for rage issues. Go figure. "Fuck."

Derek tugs at his hair in frustration making it defy gravity even more.

"I've got about a week of field training," Stiles says in a consoling voice. "Give me a minute and we can fight."

He strains at his bonds more fiercely than before but there is no give at all. "Maybe five minutes."

Derek shoots Stiles a disbelieving look. "The Agency must be really scraping the barrel if they sent you."

"You won't get a ransom. I'm pretty sure that Director Finstock let me out so he could cut the budget on office supplies," replies Stiles from the table. "You could let me out if you've got a tight schedule. I mean pummeling me to death shouldn't take long. But, man, I cannot die on my first field mission. They'll use me as a case study in orientation. I'm already the reason we have fire extinguishers in the bathrooms."

"You're an agent?" Derek actually snorts, crossing his arms.

"I'm a tech," Stiles says with pride. "You know, the Lucius Fox behind Batman."

"Please shut up," grits out Derek but Stiles saw the beginnings of a smile. He figures it's time to go for broke.

"If you're not going to let me go, or have an epic throw down fight," Stiles starts, licking his lips.

"Like you could take me," says Derek. "You were taken out tripping a motion sensor."

"We could make out," Stiles finishes, shooting his best seductive smile. He may have thrown in a wink.

Derek freezes and squints at Stiles in disbelief.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Is it working?" Stiles asks earnestly. "Basic says to use all avenues at your disposal. My sexual mystique has been untested but I've watched Agent Martin enough to know a little, comes from the hips."

He tries to lift himself up again.

"Unbelievable." Derek rubs his eyes in frustration.

"This would go better if I wasn't strapped to the table," comments Stiles. He looks up Derek from head to toe. "Unless you're into that."

"I am not going to kill you," bites out Derek. "Would you just stop talking?"

Stiles huffs out a sigh. "I knew I wasn't attractive to gay guys."

"You aren't that bad looking." Stiles preens at the praise. Derek looks like he regrets encouraging him as he pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales slowly. "You will stay here. I will actually accomplish my plan without McCall or any agent fucking it up."

"I get it, you need to destroy the world," says Stiles. "Leaving me to die of boredom in this room. It lacks that _je ne sais pas quoi_. I mean, where's the piranhas with the lasers? The moon death beams? And we can't forget the Tesla coils."

"I'm not going to destroy the world," Derek says, throwing his hands up in frustration. "And the mountain is covered with wolves."

Stiles perks up. "The mountain is covered with wolves? I take it back. That's pretty badass. Impractical. But very villainy."

"It's a nature preserve."

"That's actually sweet. You should leave that out when threatening people," Stiles says in a conspiratorially whisper.

Derek's lips almost quirk into a smile.

"Maybe you're just grumpy because of the lack of sex. I mean, Jackson was like that until he finally made a move on Danny," he continues. "Granted it took six leaks in R and D and a well placed smoke bomb. _But still_."

"How did the Agency recruit you?" Derek asks with a perplexed frown. "Your mouth is a liability in itself."

Stiles looks up at Derek. "So you've been checking me out?" He strains against the steel bands.

"You're never going to stop, are you?"

"I've been told that I'm tenacious," Stiles says proudly.

"Are you sure they weren't using another word?" Derek grins.

"Ha, _ha_. The files on you never said you had a sense of humor," glares Stiles. "So are you still going to destroy the world?"

"Burnt spies don't destroy the world," says Derek as he leans over Stiles' prone body, his hazel eyes locking with Stiles' warm brown ones.

The air in the room seems to get thicker. Stiles realizes that his mouth is not that far from Derek's. In a final act of desperation he lunges up. Their teeth clack together awkwardly but Stiles bites Derek's bottom lip and he's surprised that he's allowed to deepen the kiss.

There's a moment where Stiles' brain catches up to his body. His heartbeat thunders in his ribcage. He's making out with _the_ Derek Hale. The most elusive rogue agent ever. Feared by at least sixty countries, including Russia. The same guy that could probably kill him with just a spoon.

But that's all forgotten as Derek's hand cups his head gently and groans wantonly into his mouth. Stiles' hands strain to find any purchase to pull Derek closer and is surprised that his hands are free. Free to escape. Free to try his hand at hand-to-hand combat. But all they want to be free to do is pull Derek closer so he can try to suck Derek's tongue out of his mouth. Stiles can't believe it's him making that wrecked whimper when Derek pulls away.

"We have to stop," breathes out Derek, his eyes burning bright with desire.

"Or we could keep doing this," says Stiles shakily. Because Derek's hot and interested by the way something is digging into his hips.

"We could," murmurs Derek, catching Stiles bottom lip.

Stiles wonders how he'll write this up in his report. Especially as his hands drift to Derek's belt. Though he doesn't really want to turn Derek in. Maybe he can reform him. With sex. Though his train of thought is derailed when Derek pulls him flush against his chest and Stiles discovers how refined Derek's abs are.

Derek figures he'll tell Stiles about his plan to take down a ring of Somalian pirates over breakfast. Having someone who knows computers is bound to make things easier.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so be kind. Comments are love! ♥ I had this idea scribbled in a notebook. And was like, gawd, why did I write this? Why? Because I am lame. And love the idea of spies and hot guys running around in suits with guns. That's me. Took me ages to make sense of my own handwriting. I tend to write in the car or on the bus, so everything gets wobbly plus someone is usually talking to me and I'm like, uhuh, wait let me write this, and it's all garbled in a bright marker or pen. It's a process. I suppose. It's pretty cracky, I guess.


End file.
